Savage of the Sea (Pirates of Britannia: Lords of the Sea Book 1)

by Eliza Knight

  “Welcome to the Savage of the Sea,” Shaw said, sweeping his arm wide and indicating they should walk up the gangway.

  They made their way up, and Shaw gifted the lad with Santiago’s hat. The lad didn’t grin, but he did nod his head, and a spark of interest flashed in his eyes as he regarded the ship and the men on it, including Shaw. A bit of the cautious haze around his eyes slipped away, replaced by an inner strength that longed to be set free. He reminded Shaw a little of himself at that age.

  Edward glowered, hands fisted at his side as he took in the ship and the men on it. “Where is Lady Jane?”

  “She’s in her cabin.” Shaw kept his gaze on the man, feeling the vibrations of his anger, and checked sideways at Lorne—who had the moniker Black Knight for a reason.

  “Good. She doesna need to hear what I have to say.” Edward came close, perhaps a foot or less away from Shaw, though the affect was not as he had likely wished considering he was a good half a foot shorter than Shaw and not nearly as broad. “Ye’re a bloody pirate. Is your name even Shaw MacDougall?”

  Shaw grinned with pride, swept off his hat and bowed low. “Aye. But my friends and enemies call me Captain Savage, Prince of the Devils of the Deep.”

  Edward’s frown narrowed, while the lad’s brightened.

  But it wasn’t Uncle Edward he had to worry about, for the Black Knight decided to live up to his name. He pulled from a scabbard a blade as long as a man that glinted in the moonlight off the sharpness of its tip. The sound of metal sliding from scabbards was heard all around, as well as the grumble of excitement from Shaw’s men. They loved a good fight, though this one would prove to be less than exciting given it was three against thirty.

  “Let us leave,” Edward said, taking note of the number of swords pointed at his throat.

  “I am not holding ye hostage.” Shaw’s grin held no bit of joviality, but of warning.

  Edward kept his gaze steady on Shaw. “Then why did ye send for us?”

  Telling the truth wouldn’t hurt. “Livingstone will soon find ye.”

  “How do ye know?”

  “Because he found Jane. And it’s only a matter of time before he finds ye. His reach is wide, and ye, Sir Lorne, are known about parliament. For the right price, which Livingstone is willing to pay, ye will be found.”

  “So ye would take us hostage instead?”

  Shaw frowned. “Nay.”

  “Then why are ye trying to help us? And dinna insult me by saying ’tis for my dear niece. I dinna know how ye convinced her to marry ye, but ’twas a feat of evil I’m certain. What did ye do? Seduce her? Imprison her and impregnate her?”

  Shaw winged a brow. “As a matter of fact, Jane asked me to marry her.” Blast, but that felt good to say.

  Edward let out a bark of laughter. “I’d not seek employment as a jester any time soon, ye wastrel, for your jests are not at all entertaining.”

  “I assure ye, I dinna lie.” Of course, Shaw wasn’t going to tell the bastard that he’d told her she needed to grace his bed and marriage was the only way she’d agree to that. Even now, he could still taste her on his tongue. How desperately he wanted to go back to the cabin and finish what they’d started. For the first time, she’d surrendered to him. Confessed she wanted him to touch her. Ballocks, but his cock was swiftly growing hard again. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he said, “But ye’re welcome to ask the lass yourself.”

  “How can I trust anything she says if she’d be so willing to align herself with a pirate—forced or nay. What kind of spell did ye put on her?”

  Shaw put his sword away and crossed his arms over his chest. Time for Edward to know a little bit more of the truth. They needed to get moving, for the longer they stayed in port, the more chances they had of discovery. “Are ye aware that I’m the one who took her to Iona five years ago?”

  At that, Edward blanched, exchanging a glance with Lorne. “Ye lie.”

  “Nay.” Shaw stared them in the eyes, deadly serious as he spoke in low tones. “I was at Edinburgh Castle for the deadly feast, hired as a mercenary by Livingstone.” Perhaps keeping his role in the desired murder of Jane a secret was a good idea. “When I saw one of the bastard guards go after Lady Jane, I followed. Stopped him in mid—” He swallowed past his fury at envisioning that whoreson attempting to rape her. “Stopped him from assaulting her, which would have led to her death. I took her from there. And when I asked her where she wanted to go, she said to her aunt in Iona.”

  Edward nodded, suspicion clearing from his vision. “My sister.”

  “When she found out that Livingstone was planning to visit the abbey, she sent for me. Told me she needed my help.”

  “And ye obliged willingly?” Lorne had not lost his skeptical glower. “What did she offer ye? And dinna tell me ’twas marriage.”

  Shaw glanced at the lad. “Besides the satisfaction of thwarting Livingstone again, she advised me that I’d be securing the greatest treasure in the land.”

  “So ye do plan to hold the lad hostage.”

  “Nay. But I will be accepting a high price in gold for safe transport. Call me your personal guarded escort. And trust me, Livingstone will never get to Alexander if he’s in my care.”

  “And where exactly will ye take the lad?”

  “Is there no place that ye think will be safe?” Shaw asked.

  Edward’s shoulders sagged, and he glanced at Lorne. “Nay.”

  “Then until ye find a place, perhaps ’tis best for the lad to come with me to my island, Scarba.”

  Edward frowned. “And what of us?”

  Shaw swept his arm toward the gangway. “The two of ye are free to go.”

  “We’ve both made a vow to protect the lad with our lives.” Lorne glanced at Alexander with surprising affection for man of such deadly reputation. “My wife, his late mother, bade me promise, and I could never break that promise to her, even in death.”

  “Then ye shall accompany us,” Shaw said. “Edward?”

  “I will not leave them, or my niece. My brother would never forgive me. Once we reach Scarba, I will escort her and the lad back to Crawford Castle.”

  “There’s a reason she’s not been there all this time. ’Tis not safe. And I believe Lorne will agree with me.”

  “’Tis a family matter, and we will take care of it,” Edward spat. “Her father needs to know she is safe. Word will soon reach him she’s no longer safely in Rome.”

  Jane was blessed to have a father who cared for her. Shaw’s father had thrown him away without a backward glance, and no doubt, Jane’s father had been fearful of her safety for the last five years. But that didn’t mean the man would be the safest choice for her, and definitely not the safest for the lad.

  “Rome?”

  “Aye. That is where her aunt said she was, so that not even her father would know she was on Iona.”

  Shaw grunted. “I will not allow ye to take either one of them. That is the first place they will look. Livingstone still found her, even when very few people knew where she sought sanctuary previously.”

  “Except a pirate.” Edward eyed him skeptically. “She wanted to keep her whereabouts a secret. My sister had vowed not to say a word, else Livingstone would have information he could hold over my brother’s head.”

  “And it would seem your plan did not work.”

  Edward ignored him. “And when I learned she was there, I, too, vowed to keep her secret.”

  “How did ye know to go to the abbey in Iona, Lorne?” Shaw asked the Black Knight.

  The deadly Scottish knight crossed his arms over his chest. “Divine intervention.”

  “I dinna believe in such.” Shaw pierced him with a glower, and Edward repeated the sentiments.

  “My niece, Maria, told us to go there to seek sanctuary. When we were there, we found Jane, though she was called Marina. All the same, I recognized her as the Countess of Douglas, albeit a wee bit older.”

  The name Maria sparked something in Sh
aw’s memory. He recalled a Maria in Jane’s letters. She was suspicious of the woman. And now, if it was the same lass, her name was resurfacing. He’d have to ask Jane about it. Saints, but his wife had risked much to see to Alexander’s safety.

  Shaw was doubly impressed by all his wee wife had done to secure a lad she barely knew. And he was also hugely aware that he did not deserve her. She was strong, patriotic, and a lady. He was nothing but a scurvy pirate without a hint of morals, beyond saving the only lass who’d touched his heart.

  “I will take her to her father,” Shaw said. “After I take care of Livingstone.”

  Edward squared his shoulders, fury in his eyes. “Nay. This sham of a marriage will be dissolved, and I will take her back to safety myself.”

  “Our marriage was not a sham,” Shaw countered.

  “Of course ye’d see to it that ye had her in your clutches.” Edward was sputtering, hands fisted at his sides again. If the man didn’t calm down, he was apt to have a fit of apoplexy.

  “Ye know nothing of me.” There wasn’t a hint of offense in Shaw’s tone. He was a pirate. A brutal man. And he’d be willing to bet that at least half the things Edward must be thinking about him were indeed true.

  “Uncle, I will not go back to Crawford Castle. My place is by my husband’s side.” Jane’s voice startled Shaw from his deliberations on whether or not it would be a good idea to toss Edward from the ship, just to watch him splutter in the water as he did on dry land.

  “Dear Jane, go back to the cabin,” Edward ordered.

  Though Shaw didn’t like the tone Edward took one bit, at least they agreed. “Aye, go back, lass.”

  But instead of listening, Jane descended from the stairs that led up to the captain’s quarters above deck, her emotions full on her face—anger and determination.

  “Uncle, I’m glad ye’ve come. We must secure Alexander’s safety. That is our task. That is our most important task. For the good of the country. And to do so, we have to align ourselves with powerful allies. I have done that. And I will not back away from my vows, even when this task is complete.”

  Edward was turning purple now. “Ye would be the wife of a blackguard? A pirate?”

  Jane glanced up at Shaw, pride in her eyes. “I would be the wife of Shaw MacDougall, aye.”

  “A pirate.” Edward stomped his foot.

  But Jane’s voice was calm, her eyes grazing over Shaw like a soft caress. “He’s much more than a pirate to me, and there is nothing ye can do about it, Uncle. Please, accept this. Shaw and I will tell my father when this business with Prince Alexander is handled.” She dipped into a curtsy. “Apologies for not greeting ye sooner.”

  The prince’s face flamed red. “No need for apologies, my lady. Ye are beautiful.”

  Shaw raised a brow at that, and then it was Jane’s turn to blush.

  “Thank ye verra much for saying so.”

  “While continuing this conversation would be quite diverting for us all, we need to set sail,” Shaw said. “We’ve already had an encounter with the Spaniards, and Livingstone is likely due to arrive in port any hour now.”

  Shaw nodded toward Constantine’s ship. “We’ll have an escort through the English channel. But only if we dinna dally.”

  Edward and Lorne exchanged glances once more and then agreed to accept Shaw’s help—but not before informing him the likelihood of gold was nil. So instead, Shaw negotiated a lifetime of pardons for all the brethren, which Lorne agreed to relay to the right channels.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Not since the night they’d spent in the castle on the Isle of Scarba had Shaw come to share the bed with Jane, so after she’d washed her face, changed into her nightrail and slipped beneath the covers, she was surprised when the door to the cabin rattled. She’d barred it every night as Shaw had bid her. A brief moment of panic that they’d been boarded and she’d not heard it washed through her mind.

  Slipping from bed, she crossed the cabin silently, her toes growing colder with each step.

  “Jane.” Shaw’s voice came through the door.

  Jane startled. What was he doing here? Had something happened?

  Without hesitation, she raised the bar and opened the door, backing away for him, allowing him space to enter. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her breasts, which were visible through the chemise. Though, thankfully, the only light in the room was that of the moon shining through the porthole.

  “Lass,” he said slowly, his gaze raking over her. “I didna mean to wake ye.”

  “I hadna yet fallen asleep.” Her voice sounded throaty all the sudden, taking on that wispy sound it had when she…when they… Heat crept into her cheeks, and she looked down at the floor to see her toes curling and his boots, large and impressive, like him.

  “I’m sorry still to have made ye rise.” He backed toward the door.

  Jane raised her eyes to meet his. “Dinna be sorry, Shaw. This is your ship, your cabin.”

  “And ye’re my wife.”

  “Aye.”

  “What ye said…to your uncle, in front of the whole crew…”

  She squared her shoulders, prepared for him to tell her it wasn’t going to work out. That what she’d done was inappropriate. That once more, she’d disobeyed a direct order to stay inside their cabin. That as soon as he was done with Alexander, he would allow her to leave with her uncle, that to do so would be best. Indeed, she was certain most of the men on this ship might agree.

  And perhaps she would have agreed a few days before.

  But she didn’t think so anymore, and that was why she’d said it. When she’d heard the men arguing, she’d left the cabin without thinking to inform her uncle she would not be going anywhere, because the very idea of leaving Shaw, of not having him in her life, seemed preposterous.

  Aye, that likely made her seem witless, and perhaps she was, but something had happened over the past few days. Something that had been brewing between them for several years now. She couldn’t simply throw that away, toss it to the windblown sea and turn her back.

  Her tongue felt thick. There was nothing to say, other than, “I meant it.”

  “Why?” He started to walk toward her, the moon catching the emerald glint in his eyes.

  They were beautiful, mesmerizing, glittering jewels, and full of…need. Desire, aye, but something more intense than that. A need that reached between them and tugged at a place in her chest she’d never identified before. And that place that pulsed within her ribs leapt out with its own need, grasping tightly to the virtual rope that bound them.

  Jane took a step back, needing space to breathe, to think, to answer. Because the closer he drew, the less her mind seemed capable of rational thought, the more she wanted to stare at his mouth and think about his hands on her body. The more she wanted to surrender. To give herself completely.

  “Tell me, lass,” he murmured. “Why did ye say it? I am a pirate, how could I be more than a pirate to ye?”

  “Your profession does not make ye who ye are.”

  “Who am I?” Another step forward.

  Another step in retreat.

  Jane lifted her chin, meeting his gaze and feeling as though she’d been struck by some invisible, tingling force. “Ye’re a man of honor.”

  “There is no honor among thieves.” Saints, but his voice was so smooth. So melodic it was spellbinding, enchanting.

  “But ye are. With me, at least.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Tell me an instance in which ye havena been.”

  A slow grin curled his lips, and he took another step closer. When Jane went to retreat, her knees hit the mattress, and for a second, she thought she might tumble backward. He seemed to take pity on her for the moment and didn’t close the distance, allowing her to regain her balance.

  “Och, lass, in my thoughts, in the dark of night, in the bright of day, when I think about my hands on your skin.” He reached out and brushed his fingers up her arm, leaving goos
ebumps in their wake. “When I think of my mouth on your lips.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip and then dragged it down her neck, over her chest and between her breasts. “My tongue on your nipples.” He cupped her breast. “When I think of how ye let me kiss your sweet honey.” He did close the distance then, pressing the hard length of himself between her thighs. Unbidden, she quivered, a sudden shudder making her legs squeeze tight. Her breath hitched. “My thoughts are not at all honorable when I’m thinking about ye, love. About how I want to feel ye quiver on my tongue again. How I want to thrust deep inside ye, claim ye once and for all.”

  Oh God! The things he was saying. The low, husky timbre of his voice… How was she going to be able to breathe? To talk? To stand? She wanted to rip off her nightrail and beg him to take her. To make her feel all those things. To make her his.

  “I am your wife, Shaw,” she managed to say without choking. “How does that make your thoughts dishonorable?”

  Shaw groaned. “Because I made ye a promise.”

  “And—” She bit her lip, swallowed hard. “What if I say I take it back?”

  His eyelids dipped closed briefly, the muscle in his jaw ticking, hands at her hips tightening, and the turgid steel pressed to her nether regions appeared to grow all the harder.

  “Ye must tell me explicitly, love, for I dare not do anything ye dinna want.”

  “Make me yours, Shaw. Make me your wife in truth.”

  “Specifically,” he demanded, his voice so low deep and gravelly she wanted to cry out in pleasure from it.

  Instead, she reached for the ribbons of her chemise and undid them as he watched, the soft linen falling open to reveal the space between her breasts, all the way to her navel. Shaw’s nostrils flared as he watched her, his lips pressed firmly together, body rigid.

  Jane took it a step farther, tugging the chemise from her shoulders and letting the fabric fall in a pool of linen at her feet. She stood before him completely nude. The leather of his breeches warm against her thighs, the linen of his shirt tickling her belly.

  “I want ye to make love to me,” she said.